


Your grace in your pocket

by hapax (hapaxnym)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demonic Curiosity, Established Relationship, Here Have Some Footnotes, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, but mostly soft, so so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapaxnym/pseuds/hapax
Summary: What have they got in their pocketses?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	Your grace in your pocket

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Invasion of privacy. It’s subverted, but it’s definitely Not Cool.  
> Title is from _Twelfth Night_ Act V Sc. 1  
> ALL the thanks to @cassie-oh, for the beta, the ancient Greek, and the absolutely perfect line

Crowley liked the most current technology. Crowley _really_ liked convenience. Hence, whenever he could, Crowley paid for Stuff1 via one of several apps on his mobile. And since Crowley also really liked to present as fashionably as possible, rather than permit the device to make an unattractive bulge in one of his extremely tight pockets2, he kept it stashed in a handy easily-accessible pocket dimension.

But since you can’t always pay for Stuff3 via VenMo, the demon also had a wallet. It was black, slim, and sleek snakeskin.4 Since it didn’t fit easily within his skinny jeans, he kept it in the pocket dimension as well, right next to the mobile, along with a handful of change, a tube of superglue, and a switchblade comb he persisted in believing was Cool.

In the wallet, there was nothing except a driving license with the name _Crowley Anthony J_ [redacted] 5 and a single black credit card, attached to a random assortment of accounts on small island nations dedicated to catering to the rich and shady6. On the rare occasion that he needed banknotes – generally for tips7 \- he simply expected them to be in his wallet, and there they were.

All of which was to say that Crowley did not miss the days when persons of any consequence would constantly have to lug about a cord or bag or pouch or basket8 filled with such random trash as social consensus deemed to possess fungible value, as well as those personal items that said persons might wish to have immediately accessible.

However.

None of this meant that the demon wasn’t _agonizingly_ curious when he caught sight of a certain worn beige leather wallet just lying around on the desk in the back room of a particular Soho bookshop. He knew that Aziraphale customarily kept the item within the roomy pockets of his comfortable old-fashioned trousers. It wasn’t like him to leave it about. Most likely he had been diligently working on his accounts and got distracted. If Crowley were any sort of friend, he would just ignore it.

If he were any sort of demon, he would begin snooping immediately.

He eyed the thing. What would the angel keep in his wallet?

It was oversized, unfashionable, the sort of item that a century ago might have been called a _pocketbook_. The edges were embossed with a pattern of wings, with stylized swords at every corner. It looked soft and fat and displayed bulges and dents that should have been unattractive but instead hinted at delicious secrets begging to be investigated9. The loose gap about the frayed leather clasp suggested that it must be difficult to undo and, once open, nigh-impossible to close again.

He listened. Aziraphale was still in the shop proper, humming to himself as he re-shelved the volumes he successfully avoided selling that morning.

Crowley surely had time to take a peek.

Despite the disintegrating state of the strap clasp, the wallet opened easily for him. Inside, he was charmed to find a positive plethora of leather pockets, slits, and compartments. In the largest central section, was crammed:

  * Banknotes from any number of countries around the world (although mostly euros and pounds) some over a century old.
  * A few blank cheques, assigned to the account of _A Z FELL & CO. Unusual & Antiquarian Books_.
  * Ticket stubs to over a dozen West End shows.
  * Assorted restaurant receipts, from random dates over the past seventy years.



Further digging into the separate compartments, the demon discovered:

  * A pocket containing coins, many dating back before the conversion to decimal.10
  * A tiny gold ink pen
  * A small memo pad, which displayed in the angel’s precise miniscule handwriting: 
    * two sets of tailoring measurements, one male, one female
    * a crochet pattern for large tube-shaped scarf
    * what looked like the beginning of a recipe for treacle tart.



The last, smallest compartment bore the unmistakable scent of a Heavenly miracle slightly warping time and space. Crowley hesitated 11, but could no more resist looking inside than he could the allure of a sun-baked rock. 12 Despite his deft care, he was a bit surprised when the extra-dimensional knots loosened easily at his touch to reveal:

  * A withered brown leaf, from … an apple tree?
  * A shard of ancient, waterlogged timber
  * A fragment of parchment, which simply read “ὁπότᾰν -K”
  * A sliver of an oyster shell
  * A scrap of scarlet ribbon
  * A miniature black silk rose, spangled with diamante
  * A tiny curl of copper hair, braided and twisted into a ring, tied with a pale blue thread
  * A wisp of a black pinfeather, still faintly redolent of smoke



Crowley stared at this motley collection for what felt like several thousand years.

From the bookshop, he heard Aziraphale stop humming mid-tune as a jingle sounded from the front door.

Hastily he scooped everything back into the wallet, doing his best to put it all back in the seemingly chaotic order in which he had found it. One finger lingered on the last, smallest pocket. He ached to add something, to somehow acknowledge, to accept, to return the sentiment laid so nakedly bare. Something freely given, to complete an assemblage of stolen scraps secreted over the millennia. But that would be impossible to do without confessing he had been snooping into something Aziraphale had meant to keep private.

At last, before he could second-guess himself, he again untied the metaphysical binding, and carefully pressed his lips to the leather inside. Satisfied, he sealed the kiss within, then fastened the leather clasp around the pocketbook and placed it back on Aziraphale’s desk.

Only then did he go back into the shop, ready to assist his angel in shoo-ing any unwelcome customers away.

Notes:

1\. Mostly wine.  Back

2\. Nor would he be caught discorporated wiggling about, struggling to fish something out of them. Back

3\. When he did pay, that is. The demon was of the opinion that if you can get away with just taking a thing, it was obviously _meant_ to be free.  Back

4\. Fake, of course, he wasn’t walking around with bits of peeled dead snake on him, _ewww_. Back

5\. Also fake. ‘ _Jredacted_ ’ wasn’t an officially recognized middle name.  Back

6\. He didn’t know exactly to whom those accounts actually belonged. Nor did he care.  Back

7\. Crowley was a lavish tipper. He might be a demon, but he wasn’t a _monster_.  Back

8\. Although he did miss the way said cord or bag or pouch or basket could be artfully arranged to accentuate whichever aspect of one’s person would effectively accessorize a particular temptation.  Back

9\. Rather like its owner, in fact.  Back

10\. Aziraphale had mourned the demise of the last monetary system to owe its origins to Imperial Roman currency.  Back

11\. Less from fear of the sting of Grace than of the possibility of disappointment in a particular pair of hazel-blue eyes.  Back

12\. Or of a sunshine-filled smile.  Back

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale’s pocketbook is loosely based upon this lovely item: https://www.etsy.com/listing/616820537/antique-19th-century-gents-pocketbook?show_sold_out_detail=1&ref=nla_listing_details


End file.
